


Slow Mornings

by randomrosewrites



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Freeform, M/M, Other, Sleeping Together, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomrosewrites/pseuds/randomrosewrites
Summary: A slow morning with the Radio Demon.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	Slow Mornings

You wake up to the mouthwatering smell of food early in the morning. Your eyes flutter open, groaning and rolling on your other side in search of Alastor, but find no one. Disappointed, you look around the room. 

The bedroom is dim, curtains still drawn to block the deep streams of red light from entering the room. It’s copiously organized, as it always is. Alastor’s microphone rests against the closet door, watching over you as you sleep. 

You swath yourself in a cocoon of blankets, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and stepping down onto the chilly hardwood floor. You pad out of the bedroom and into the hallway. The walls are lined with antique photos, most from Alastor’s previous life. But there are a few newer ones, ones that he’s added with his addition of you to his life. 

Er, Afterlife. 

You come into the kitchen. The sight that greets you makes warmth ooze throughout your heart. 

Alastor’s back is turned to you. He grills up something that smells magnificent in one hand, the other tending to a pot, which he stirs with a ladle in hand is grilling up something on a saucepan while the other is tending to a pot, which he stirs with a ladle. The kitchen is an organized mess, with dirty dishes stacked orderly, and various ingredients out on the countertops. An apron is tied around his thin waist, a furry tail poking through his pants. He’s humming an old tune - without the radio - you notice. He probably didn’t want to make too much noise. 

He hears you walk in and turns around, face lighting up once he sees you. 

“Darling!” Releasing the ladle but keeping a careful hand on the skillet, he moves towards you to plant a short kiss on your forehead. His tail  _ thump thump thumps _ as it whaps against his clothes in his excitement. “Good morning! What are you doing up so early?”

“I woke up and smelt your cooking.” you murmur, still dazed from your slumber. 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to rouse you. I was actually trying to surprise you, but, alas, I guess that backfired on me!” he returns to the stove, waving his hand towards the dining room table. “Have a seat! Coffee’ll be ready in a jiffy.” 

You take up his offer, sliding into your chair at the table. The living room and dining room are both well-kept as the rest of the house. Valued trinkets and objects are packed into every corner of the room, making it feel well lived in. A fireplace against one of the walls is housing a modest flame, one that’s heating up the entire room. 

You get up, wanting to occupy yourself, and add another log to the fire. 

“Any plans for the day?” Alastor’s voice is clearer as he steps into the room, plating the table with plates of food. “I was thinking maybe we could - oh, I could have done that, darling.” He says, noting you crouched by the fire.

“S’ fine, I wanted to-” you’re cut off by a yawn. You must be more tired than you initially thought. “Wanted to help.”

“Well thank you, dear. But honestly, you need to let me spoil you. Now come to the table, breakfast’s ready.” 

In his usual gentlemanly fashion, Alastor pushes you in your own chair before he takes his. You dig into the monstrous breakfast. Alastor has made enough food to feed an army and then some. Fruit arrangements, pancakes, slabs of honey-glazed ham, crisp bacon, and a multitude of other breakfast foods cover the table. You take your fill, digging into the splendour with eagerness. 

He never judged you for what or how much you ate, something that made you more comfortable than you’d like to admit. Neither did he judge you for whatever you chose to do, always supporting who you were and what you did with excitement. 

As you clean your plate, Alastor collects the dishes. “Leave the cleanup to me m’dear. You go have a rest on the couch.” 

You happily agree with him there. Your own tiredness coupled with the big breakfast is making your eyelids droop again. You flop on the couch, cocooning yourself with a blanket and nesting into the cushions.

Alastor fiddles around the kitchen, keeping the radio on a low volume for your own benefit. Soft jazz fills the air, seeping into your bones and weighing down your eyelids. You’re just about to fall asleep when Alastor’s voice rouses you again.

“Are you that tired, darling?” He’s standing above you, smiling and loosening the apron at his waist. “Scoot over.”

You wiggle to allow Alastor to squeeze on the couch as well. You curl around him like a sloth, using his arm as a pillow.

His hand threads through your hair, scratching at your scalp, pulling a pleased groan from you. 

“Rest if you want,” he says. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

You feel like you couldn’t stay awake even if you wanted to. Your eyelids grow weak. Surrounded by the strong, comforting presence of your partner, you fall asleep.

  
  


When you wake up again, you’re certain hours have passed. You wake dazed, vision blurry, but very much  _ awake _ . The print of Alastor’s clothes is embedded onto your arm, a sure sign of an excellent nap. 

Said person is sleeping underneath you, eyes closed and mouth caught in a pacific smile. You go to remove yourself from his grasp, only for his arms to tighten around you.

“5 m’ore minutes...” He slurs, drawing you closer to him and rolling on his side. 

You give him ten minutes. When you try to get up again, his arms don’t budge an inch. 

“Alastor?” 

“Mhm?”

“I need to get up.” 

“Mhm…” he hums, making no move to get up. 

“Can you let go…?”

“Hm...” His voice vibrates through your chest as he wraps his long limbs around you further. He moves “ _ No _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little drabble I did for fun! Alastor is so soft in this, which is crazy because I usually never write him like this.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> tumblr: @randomrosewrites  
> twitter: @randomrosewrite


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